


The 100th Hunger games

by Fandomgirlforever, withcloudforashift



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomgirlforever/pseuds/Fandomgirlforever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/withcloudforashift/pseuds/withcloudforashift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 years ago Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were publically executed by what was left of the capitol. They were said to have started a rebellion, one that was so successful that they almost took over panem. The districts have since been informed that if it ever happened again there would be no district left standing and since then no one dared step out of line. As the reaping for the 100th hunger games arrives, president snows' son, who has only now came forward to take the place of his father, prepares for the quarter quell. And it's not going to be a pleasant twist. Laurel, District 7 and Wren, District 11, expected an increase of risk this time around.  But nothing could have prepared them for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. District 7-Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> This is co-written by Withcloudforashift and will contain two POVs as a result

The sun beat down on my back as I made my way through the crowd towards the justice building. I didn't rush towards it, why would I? When there was every chance someone I knew wouldn't be returning home. Or they would be. Just in a wooden box to a crying family. I closed my eyes as I walked down the street, enjoying the sunshine before I reached the registering table. A peacekeeper held out a hand for my finger and I complied, wincing slightly as the needle pricked my finger. Despite the fact this would be my 5th year entering, the needle still hurt. Walking in front of me were my older brother and sister, twins both in their last year as being eligible to enter. Eligible. It made it sound as though they had a choice. As though they wanted to be entering. No one wanted to enter. Well, except the idiots from districts 1 and 2. I followed my siblings towards the sections. They split off first, Carter towards the 18 year old boys section on the left and Willow towards the 18 year old girls section on the right. I kept walking, stopping only when I reached the 16 year olds section, turning right into the girls part before stopping beside Arielle and Belle. The only two people I would really class as friends. We only nodded to acknowledge each others existence, the fear too high in our minds to worry about things as little as greetings. 

The escort walked onto the stage moments later with her usual smile. Zenobia. Such an outlandish name, but it matched her appearance perfectly. She wore a wig, as many Capitol people did, painted a bright pink colour. And that wasn't the only thing that was bright pink. She'd had her whole skin tinted pink for the reaping. It was probably the only good thing to come out of the reaping. You could laugh at Zenobia's choice of outfit for that year. And this year she didn't disappoint, she teetered on heels which were way to high for her. Wearing a bright pink suit that fell to mid thigh. I would have laughed if I wasn't so terrified.  
"Welcome!" Zenobia declared in her usual high pitched nasally voice, "Welcome to the reaping for the 100th Hunger games. By now you're probably wondering what the twist for this year will be. And we are lucky enough to have a live video feed straight from the capitol with the president to tell you"  
She nodded to someone and the face of the young president snow filled the screen. He looked a lot like the pictures of his father they had seen in school. He was small and thin but unlike his father who had snow white hair due to his age the man has light blonde hair that could almost be mistaken for a light brown. When he smiled he looked almost snake like.  
"The twist for the quarter quell this year has been decided in advance. For the 100th hunger games the responsibility for who the tributes shall be will not rest on pure chance of tickets. No. For the 100th hunger games the choice of who shall enter the games will fall to the previous victors who will choose one young man and woman for the honor of entering the games. Volunteers are however allowed"  
There was a gasp throughout the city square.Whilst it might not be as bad as the 50th hunger games where twice the number of tributes were entered. Or as bad as the 75th where only victors where reaped and whilst it might share an idea with the first quarter quell, where the districts had to pick their own tributes at least that was anonymous. The tributes couldn't blame only one person. But this time. This time they knew who was to blame. It was a way of getting back at the victors. The ones who had been alive during the rebellion. And almost all of them had.  
Ii spotted District 7's 3 victors freeze in their place, they knew too. I felt my heart drop because I knew who they were going to choose. One of my family. It had to be. Who else would they pick but the shunned family of the District. And when you're mother was an ex capitol resident and you're father an injured peacekeeper you didn't get much more shunned than my family. They were going to pick my siblings. I'd never see my brother and sister again. They'd be dead.  
Finally Leera got to her feet, she'd obviously been nominated by the other victors because she was shaking as she got to her feet. The whole square held their breath. All I could think was not Willow. Please not Willow. Time seemed to pass slowly as she walked slowly towards the mike.  
"The.....The female tribute will be.....Laurel West"  
Thank god. Was the only thing that hit my head. It wasn't Willow. Willow would get to have the family she wanted. She'd be happy. As happy as she could be anyway with the threat of the games hanging over her head. But suddenly I froze. Because I knew that name. I knew it well. Arielle and Belle were staring at me wide eyed. Because it was my name. My name had been called. My legs worked of their own accord. People parted around me as i made my way to the end of my row. People stared at me but I didn't notice. All I could hear was a ringing sound in my ears. and that was all I could notice. I somehow reached the stairs and climbed them, walking past the Victors without even a glance in their direction. I came to a stop at Zenobia's side. Finally the ringing in my ears stopped and I was free to look around. Carter was staring wide eyed at me. As if he didn't know what to do. Because he knew he'd be next. Willow was a mess. She was being supported by one of her friends as she cried. Leera herself looked ready to cry  
"A...and the male tribute Carter West"  
She turned away quickly as Carter froze only for a second, turning to walk to the end of his row. But he was cut off by a hand stopping him.  
"I volounteer as tribute" Everyone turned to stare at the voice which belonged to the brown haired boy. Carter began to argue with him but he just shook his head muttering something to him and to the end of the 18 year old section. Laurel stared at the boy who had just sacrificed his life for my brothers. A feeling of gratitude filled me as I stared at the boy who'd always been my brothers best friend. A boy I'd grown up with and was as much my brother as Carter was.  
He reached the stage and stopped beside me giving me a reassuring look.  
"And your name is?" Zenobia asked him  
"Rye Chambers" Rye replied  
"Our tributes for the 100th hunger games. Laurel West and Rye Chambers. Shake hands you two" Zenobia instructed. They turned to face each other and Rye took Laurel's outstretched hand giving it a tight reassuring squeeze before the two were ushered quickly off the stage. Before I walked into the building I closed my eyes again, enjoying the suns rays for the last time before I was shoved into the justice building and the doors closed with a crash behind me.


	2. Chapter 2- District 11, Reaping

I’m sure, if you asked every person in District 11 what day of the year they dread most, you would only receive one answer.

The Reaping.

Although there are other events, like the actual screening of the Hunger Games, nothing really compares to the crushing paranoia on the day of the reaping. Even as a twelve-year-old, I was hit by the constant fear they’d select my name from a bowl of thousands, and I only had my name in once. Now, although I’m sixteen and my odds of being reaped haven’t increased by much, I’m still shaking my way along the familiar path to the square. Although I have walked this way so many times before, it always feels different when there’s hundreds of balls of anxiety walking with me. Every time I brush someone’s hand or bump their shoulder they leap back like I’ve electrocuted them and give me a blank stare. We all continue moving.

This year is the 100th Hunger Games which means another Quarter Quell. I’ve not been alive long enough to experience one, and they don’t elaborate much on the Games in school. President Snows’ son has taken on his role and although he can’t be as terrifying as Snow was, he still holds power nobody should ever have. I wait in line to be registered, and when they prick my finger I don’t notice until the person behind me moves forward. The fear that comes with standing in a crowd waiting for your fate to be decided blocks out any kind of pain.

Since I don’t have any living siblings, I move towards the 16-year-old section alone, trying to find my best friend Ocean in the crowd. I see her standing towards the edge of the crowd and go to join her, glad for the small comfort it brings. We don’t speak, only grip each others hands and wait for Halia, our Districts escort, to make an appearance. There’s a lot of crying around the square, mainly at the front. The older we get, the more we learn to hide our suffering. It will only cause more problems.

“Welcome!” Shrieks a strangely-dressed Halia as she trips towards the microphone, “We welcome you to the reaping for the 100th annual Hunger Games, and this year, as you all know I’m sure, is especially exciting. A Quarter Quell will finally take place!” She leaves a pause in which cheers are expected to take place. I can imagine how district one and two reacted, with whoops and shouts and bets being called out. Here in 11 we stay silent, solemn, waiting for her to get this over with. We receive a “very special live broadcast” Of our new president as he announces that this year, the existing victors will be selecting the tributes for the Hunger Games. The faces of our four victors don’t show any surprise which leads me to believe they were probably given sheets full of all the names and faces of District 11 and asked to decide on who would be most interesting to send off to die.

Fern Astrid steps up, the only female victor, and makes her way to the microphone. Although she tries her best to mask it, presumably to please the Capitol, I can see the regret in her eyes. The apology.

“The female Tribute who has been elected to participate in the 100th annual Hunger Games is...” She falters, but not for effect. She’s hesitating, but the peacekeepers stationed around the square are here to make sure everything runs smoothly and she has no choice but to sentence someone to death.

“Wren Kaster…” The word is barely a whisper, but the microphone picks it up well enough. And so do I. Ocean lets go of my wrist and I know what she’s trying to do. “Ocean, don’t. I don’t want this, you know that. We _promised_ each other.” I remind her, and she lets out a strangled cry. A few years ago, Ocean and I made a pact. We would never volunteer for each other, no matter what, so that we could save the other person the guilt of not having to fight like they should have. She can’t go back on her promise now. I step into the large gap between the male and female sections and walk as fast as I can without my legs caving under me, which is not very fast. It feels like a century before I make it to the stage, and then I have to get up the stairs without collapsing. When I make it to Halia, who is sporting a bright orange dress and huge silver hair, she greets me with a gush of congratulations, and I accept it coldly. I wasn’t exactly expecting to be chosen for this “honour” but I understand the meaning behind my name being selected. Choosing me would hurt the least people. I have no parents, no siblings, I live in the community orphanage and I only keep one good friend. My lacking ability to make friends is literally going to be the death of me. I can feel hysteria creeping up inside me and I try to stifle the laughs that rack my body and make them look more like sobs. Maybe crying on stage is a sign of weakness, but if I let them see me laugh I’d definitely have no sponsors. Nobody sends things to the crazy people in the games.

“The male tribute we have selected to participate in the 100th annual Hunger Games is Ivan Apollo.” There is no hesitation this time. The Victors just want the reaping to be over. A young boy emerges from the 14-year old section, holding his hands tight together and walking as if someone else is moving his legs for him. He looks a lot older than 14, which will earn him some sponsors if he receives a good score during training. Halia claps her hands together three times, and it’s the only noise in the whole square. She dismisses the crowd and we’re finally led away towards the Justice building, where I sober instantly. There’s no trace of laughter inside me now, and the reality of the situation hits me as the door slams shut behind us. That was the last time I will ever see Oceans dark green eyes, her pin straight black hair, her soft brown skin. She was the only person I knew well, in District 11, and the only one I’m ever going to get to know.

I collapse on the sofa in the small room I’ve been led into. I don’t need to wait up for anyone, and I’m only now regretting the pact I made with Ocean. We swore we wouldn’t say our goodbyes, that it would be too hard, and besides, one of us might return. It just sounds naïve and childish now. I rest my head on the cushions, blocking everything out of my mind.

All I can do is sleep. God knows I’ll need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -withcloudforashift-


	3. District 7- The last goodbye's

I was lead down corridor after corridor. Never allowed to take my time to admire the framed pictures on the wall. The complete opposite of how it had been on my way here. Finally a door was opened and i was shoved almost roughly into a room. A library with a couch in the centre of the room and two chairs in the corners. Bookcases line the walls. Normally I'd have been excited about the amount of books here. But I'd just been condemned to death so there was no way of that. I slide onto the couch, unconsciously clenching and unclenching my hands in fear. Usually it would have been my shirt sleeve that i tugged at but today i was stuck in a pale blue dress that had once been Willow's. At that thought the door suddenly opened and my sister walked in. 

No one spoke for a moment, as if analyzing who was the most likely to break down first. Willow lost. She broke down crying almost instantly. I rose to my feet wrapping my arms around her hugging her tightly despite the fact she was taller than me. Willow sobbed into my shoulder as i held her trying not to cry myself

"I should have volounteered" Willow sobbed "I should have"  
"Don't say that Willow" I replied my voice shaking. "You know i wouldn't have let you do that for me. Just...tell my little nieces or nephews about their auntie Laurel ok?"  
"You're coming back Laurel. You have to come back" She sobbed again  
"I wont go down that easy" I promised quietly finally stepping back to look at Willow. As if committing her image to memory. I don't look anything like her. Whilst she has the normal blonde hair that most District 7 people have, probably because my ancestors on my fathers side had been from district 7 before the rebellion, I have the unusual red hair more commonly seen in district 5 or in the few naturally capitol people who choose to leave their hair the natural colour. I guess that was one of the reasons they picked me over Willow. Willow could blend in as a District 7 citizen. I'd always stand out as not being. Her brown eyes were another thing that showed she fit in. Whereas my Blue eyes stood out as abnormal. I was the perfect candidate to be picked as a tribute, and i was the only one who didn't see it straight away.  
"Tell Carter I say goodbye ok?" I said as the doors opened again "Mum and dad too i guess"  
"Carter's saying bye to Rye. Tell him yourself" Willow replied having managed to stop crying.  
"Take care of yourself Willow" I said quietly as my sister was led out of the room by a peacekeeper.  
Moments later the door opened again and Arielle and Belle entered. The three of us surged forward and hugged each other tight. I bit back tears as the pair of them began to cry.  
"Hey don't cry," I said gently as the tears built up in my own eyes "You'll make me cry."  
"S...sorry" Belle apologized wiping the tears from her eyes "I'm so sorry Laurel"  
"Hey, it's not your fault. The only one we have to blame is the President." I replied. The pair stare at me as if I've gone mad. "What? He's already condemned me to death. What else can he do?"  
"Don't say things like that" Arielle whispered worriedly "You don't know when they're listening"  
I wanted to contradict her. Say i didn't care. But the worry in her face made me stop.  
"You're right. I'm sorry Ari" i replied with a sigh "I'm just scared"  
The door opened again and a peacekeeper stood at the door.  
"See you guys" I said as calmly as i could manage as the pair were led out of the room for the last time.  
The door opened for the final time and Carter stood at the door. Like Willow before him he didn't say anything. But he knew. He opened his arms and I took two steps forward before collapsing into his arms crying. He held me tight to him, truthfully he was the only thing keeping me standing.  
"Shhh" He said soothingly  
"I don't want to go" I sobbed quietly. Not caring how childish I was being. "I'm scared Carter"  
"I know L I know" He replied gently. "But you can't let them see you upset. You know they'll only see it as a sign of weakness. And you need sponsers if you're going to come back"  
"I don't think i can come back" I admitted "I don't...I don't think i can kill someone Carter"  
"All you need is a bit of training L" He replied stepping back, keeping her at arms length. "You can swing an Axe. You and i both know you can. I've seen you practicing with mine. You can climb trees. Just like i taught you. But you need to be strong Laurel. We need you to come home"  
The door opened again. Three minutes were up. They went too fast.  
"You can do it Laurel" Carter insisted as he was led out of the room.  
The peacekeeper returned a while later and led me out of the room and onto the train. Rye was nowhere to be seen, the only ones there were Zenobia,Leera and Roland, the recent male victor. I ignored them instead walking across to a couch beside the window and watched as District 7, the place i had called home for the last 16 years flew past me for the last time. The only thing that flashed through my mind was Goodbye District 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Fandomgirlforever~


	4. District 11- The Goodbyes I Don't Make

I wake on the sofa, feeling groggy and uncomfortable. My mouth is dry and my tongue feels like sandpaper inside my mouth. I know I haven't been asleep for long, if I had a peacekeeper would have come to get me. I'm slightly glad that Ocean isn't here. Although I could do with the comfort, I'm a mess and seeing her will only make it worse. I haven't had time to sit and think about what's about to happen, and now that I do I avoid the topic as much as possible. I think about District 11 instead. The large community orphanage was not a bad place to be, despite the rumours around it. The woman who runs the orphanage lost children of her own and I think she finds comfort in raising others. We are fed at least two meals a day, the orphanage are given extra food to keep it running, but just the bare minimum. If we needed new clothes, we would get them, nobody would ever hurt us. Actually, everyone got along well together. That's about the only benefits of living in District 11. If someone is grieving, we all grieve, if someone is executed, a little part of our District is lost along with them.

"Time to go." Orders a peacekeeper, marching into the room. Because of the helmets, it's almost impossible to tell one Peacekeeper from the other and I don't bother asking their names. What's the point? I'm not going to need that information when I'm dead.

I walk to the car that will take both Ivan, the male tribute, and I to the train. The train that will take us to training, to interviews, to death. Ivan doesn't cry, he sits in an anxious silence as Halia rattles off all the possible benefits of representing 11 in the Hunger Games. I try to listen, strangely interested in how the Capitol perceive life, but eventually I get annoyed with her optimism and drift into a daydream. She really thinks this is a thing the Districts should be excited about, something that we're _lucky_ to participate in. It's exceptionally hard to take the fact they can't see the damage the games has caused, but I can't help but feel slightly sorry for the Capitol citizens. Not enough that I would feel guilty about rounding up the Capitol children and sending them to slaughter to teach them a lesson, but still sorry. I know that if I was brought up in the Capitol, I would be excited about the velvet carpets on the trains too. But I would never watch 24 innocent children fight to the death, so I make every effort to show Halia that I don't care. She stops talking a few minutes later.

I've never been on a train before, so I try to hide my fear when the tracks screech under us. The train moves the instant the doors are shut behind us and I prepare to be thrown backwards, but it doesn't happen. The train starts smoothly and quietly, even though I can see out of the windows that the trees are spinning past faster then should be possible. It's nauseating.

"Well, here we are! You're both free to do a bit of exploring, if you like! As long as you're back for dinner." I can hear the change in her voice and I know we've upset her. I can imagine the past District 11 tributes have been nothing but polite, even if it was technically Halia that decided their fate. When Halia has walked off, probably to sulk, I decide to get to know Ivan. I don't have much need for an ally, it's a stupid idea that ensures you'll have to kill the person you survived with for two weeks. However, I'm not completely closed to the idea, and from what I've seen of Ivan around the district he seems nice enough.

"I'm Wren," I start off, feeling like an idiot but continuing anyway, "This sucks." He cracks a smile, showing his teeth like Ocean does. I'm glad he's not one of those children that become so traumatised by the idea of going into the games that they shut down. He needs to be strong if he has any chance at all.  
"Why'd they pick you?" I ask, hoping if I ask a question I'll get a proper answer. It's easier to get to know someone if they talk.

"My dad killed a peacekeeper." He says quietly, shifting his eyes to the window. I don't press the issue. It's not hard to guess where his dad is now, the Capitol don't take any move against them lightly. They don't take _anything_ lightly.

"Lets go and find the food car." I say instead, gesturing to a silver door that opens at my touch. He starts ahead eagerly. I ate this morning, but who knows how long ago this boy had food? If his father committed a crime like that, there will be people around making sure the family regrets any involvement although I doubt they had any. I can only see Ivan's' collar bone, but that's enough to prove it. It's jutting dangerously far out from beneath his caramel skin, and maybe being reaped wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to Ivan at this point.

When we successfully find a car filled with buffet tables, Ivan doesn't even bother with a plate. He binges on handfuls of berries, chunks of soft white bread, legs of lamb, warm rice. I stop him after his fifth leg of lamb, telling him to stop eating before it all comes back up. He agrees, looking slightly green, but stares longingly at the roast chicken. I see a bowl of small brown cubes and examine them curiously. At first I don't recognise it, but then I remember a word that matches the food. _Chocolate_! I feel five years old again, the year the female tribute, Fern Astrid, won the games. Our District was rewarded with all sorts of food, and chocolate was one of many luxuries. I take a few cubes from the bowl, handing some to Ivan, and place them on my tongue. They melt quickly, leaving a sweet creamy liquid in my mouth. After that I'm worse than Ivan, filling a plate with everything sweet in sight until my legs start bouncing from a sugar rush. Dinner won't be for another hour, so Ivan and I go back to our rooms separately. We have hardly said ten words to each other and there's already the bond between us that develops between every other pair of tributes from District 11. We don't know each other, but we're from the same place, we both know how the games will end. I know I have to at least try to get Ivan to win the games. When he returned, he'd never starve again. If I'm not going to win, _he_ has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -withcloudforashift-


End file.
